Do you remember the column in an old motorcycle magazine called "Motorcycle makes a man"?

Yeah, I think that phrase was originally a British proverb. It was about how riding a motorcycle teaches you many things, how it shapes you as a person, even in terms of culture and character. Something along those lines.

Yes, it was. I can’t remember which magazine it was, but that column has stayed in my head ever since. Back then, magazines were the only source of information, so I really would read them cover to cover. The magazine itself felt like a textbook. There was no internet, no other way to get information, so everything was packed into that one issue. I’d even try to mentally increase the resolution of a single photograph and try to pull as much information from it as possible. It was completely different time.

Totally different. A photo you’d just swipe past in a second today, back then we would stare at it forever back then. Like, “Where is that part mounted?” or “Is that wiring running through the inside of the frame?”
The answers weren’t written anywhere, so all we could do was imagine.

When I fixed my bike, I would call mechanics I’d gotten close to for advice because the service manuals were all in English. I mainly relied on the diagrams and did my best to translate them with a dictionary. Workspaces were anywhere. I remember working on my bike in the street, in parking lots, at home or at a friend’s place.

Exactly. I’d follow the English service manuals and call the shop for help too. I didn’t have a garage, so I couldn’t be picky. I had no choice but to work under the apartment building. I’d run an extension cord from somewhere to get power and use a sander out on the street. At first, I don’t even think I had a grinder, I was using a hacksaw.

Tokyu Hands and the local hardware store were my parts shops, and the small local factories like sheet metal shops, paint shops and tent makers were my custom shops.

I remember that too. I’d go to the hardware store in front of Ebisu Station or the hardware and screw section at Hands over and over. I’d look at things that weren’t even for motorcycles and think, “Could I use this to mount a headlight?”

My headlight actually fell off a few times while riding. (laughs)

Mine fell off too (laughs). It was thin, after all. But I could figure out why it happened too, either the mount wasn’t strong enough to handle the vibrations, or I hadn’t secured it properly. When something fails, you start to see exactly what to do differently next time.

I’d try things like welding two metal plates together. I’d try things as an experiment, knowing from the start they were going to break.

Exactly. I never rode with the assumption that things wouldn’t break, so fixing them became second nature. And because you can’t repair something without understanding its structure, my way of looking at things naturally changed. That sense of being able to see how things work has stayed with me and carries over directly into my work today.

The first time the two of us went to the Kiyosato bike meeting※2, I learned a lot about motorcycle culture. Almost everyone there had long hair, bandanas, black T-shirts paired with bell-bottoms, leather jackets and leather vests. Seeing those made me want to make my own leather vest.

The Kiyosato bike meeting, that brings back memories! That was the time when Tetsu ended up with only 500 yen left. After paying for the highway tolls and gas, our money just disappeared (laughs). At the time, the standard biker look was leather, black T-shirts, and a tight fit—but we started wearing nylon mountain parkas and oversized white T-shirts. At the same time, we adopted functional pieces like leather pants with chaps※3. I remember you even wore chaps to school (laughs). I didn’t dislike that style, but I didn’t want to wear the classic, mainstream look as it was. Maybe it’s because I loved it that I sort of kept my distance from it.

Later, when the skateboarder Jason Jessee ※4 appeared in Iron Horse ※5, I felt a real sense of sympathy with him.

That was a big moment. I thought, “Ah, this is a way to make it work.” I realized it was okay to ride a Harley wearing Vans. It showed me that it’s fine to interpret things in your own way.